It is official. I have survived my first year teaching in Congo. I'm sitting in my class now feeling strangely let down. The children have all flown off to their exotic locale or been spirited away by drivers and nannies. It is a different world from the final days of past where the staff gathered to cheer and wave as the buses carted students off to their summer vacations spent in farm fields and dirt bike tracks.
It doesn't help that with the dry season comes gray skies and cool weather. The winter of Kinshasa is a dreary place. Perhaps I would feel differently if I, too, were jetting off to friends and family, but instead I feel somewhat lost and unprepared. The calendar of this international lifestyle rolls along with a force and speed of hurricane winds until slamming to a sudden halt almost unexpectedly. It's jarring.
In many ways, I have already jumped through my summer and am planning for December. I don't like this fast forward façon d'être. I want to slow down and enjoy every moment. It's concentric circles, life in an international school balanced with life in Africa.
Reflection? I have enjoyed this year immensely. I love the potential of the school and I have found that I truly am meant to be teaching. If there was a doubt about whether I was meant for this occupation, it is all cleared away. Professionally, its been an amazing year.
Personally? I am completely missing the vibrancy and rhythms of Afrique l'ouest. It is one of those situations that pulls from each limb, contrasting directions. This story is not over, truly just beginning. Never one to remain idle, I've already begun developing some project ideas to see me through until July. I am not entirely in love with Kinshasa, but for now, we get along.
